


A little dirt is a lot of fun

by fckyeahgallavich



Series: Requests/Prompts [8]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mechanic!Mickey, PWP, Prompt Fic, Shower Sex, Smut, new kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: Ian discovers he has a bit of a *thing* for dirt when he can't seem to control himself around Mickey hard at work.Premise for fic provided by bi_bi_Eli and requested by Enzo Stans <3
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Requests/Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/878244
Comments: 17
Kudos: 170





	A little dirt is a lot of fun

At first Mickey was resentful that he had to accept Lip’s offer to work at the motorcycle shop. But when three weeks’ worth of his PO’s arranged jobs ended up being more bullshit than they were worth, Mickey had to reconsider. Truthfully, he’d never had the opportunity to learn much about cars under the hood… Just under the dash — what wires to attach to get the damn thing to start and function normally without the key. And so he knew even less about motorcycles. But, well, Lip hadn’t known any more than he did and the bastard was raking in about two grand a month on his personal projects _alone._ After a while, Mickey had to give credit where it was due and sacrifice the teeniest bit of pride to ask for help. Ian was proud, to Mickey’s annoyance, and every few days Ian would get this bright-eyed, meaningful look on his face and Mickey’s scoff because… it’s a fuckin job that paid well for the amount of work it required, why the fuck was Ian goin around acting like he was goddamned Mother Theresa?

It was four months after his release and was shocked at how much he enjoyed fixing up bikes and building his own. Brad shocked the fuck out of him when he asked Mickey if he was going to sell or keep his first creation.

“I got a choice?” Mickey asked, crouched by the front tire, looking up at the manager in question, interrupting his admiration of his first project.

“ _Sure._ You’ll have to pay the shop back for the parts but other’n that… _You_ made it!” Brad announced happily. Mickey, brows raised in amazement, returned his attention to the midnight purple fairing and fender, bit his lip, and wrestled with himself for a long, long time. What would Ian say if he decided to buy a bike that was supposed to _make_ him at least two grand rather than _cost_ him one?

Surprisingly, Ian was all too supportive of Mickey buying his bike, so long as he was certain the damn thing was built correctly — a comment that earned Ian a middle finger and a dark glower. So now, Mickey finally had a reliable means of transportation. He had to make sure his PO never saw the bike to avoid paying that extra fee to have a motorcycle license added to his record, but for riding around town and getting to and from work, the thing worked perfectly.

Last week, Mickey was working overtime to finish a commissioned piece that was already three days late. The client was getting pissy and Mickey was sick of hearing his annoying ass voice every morning on the phone, so he told Brad “pay me or don’t but I’m finishin this bike, and if you don’t pay me time and a half for it I’m keepin your gratuity.” Lip groaned at Mickey’s ball-buster routine, and yet it guaranteed that one way or the fucking other Mickey was raking it in after that night.

Nine at night it was when Ian walked over to the garage. Mickey couldn’t hear him open the door with the music blaring and so he didn’t notice Ian standing in the corner watching his boyfriend with affection and downright lust in his eyes. Mickey mindlessly grumbled along to “Them Bones” and Ian just traced the muscles of his partner’s biceps as he worked. Sweat covered the man’s skin in a glistening sheen that sent a rush of blood through his body. He bit his lip, set the sandwich and beer he’d brought for Mickey down on the counter that separated the main floor from the small parts, and wandered around to Mickey’s front so eventually his partner would see him. The song changed and the sultry of the lightly thrumming guitars set into Ian’s consciousness, further settling his body to a simmer. He watched Mickey’s fingers nimbly work to set, with great purpose, one of the final pieces of the exhaust system. Mickey started singing along and Ian remembered when they used to sing this together as kids, usually right after a quickie first round and usually the song helped to build up to a longer, but just as heated second round. Mickey’s brows furrowed as he likely recognized Ian’s boots in his periphery.

“‘T’s just me, Mick,” Ian called over the music. Mickey’s head flashed up, brows shot up in surprise.

“How long’ve you been here?” He asked, clearly concerned that his attention was so engrained in his work that he didn’t even notice company — good or bad.

“Alice in Chains and Tool,” Ian replied. Mickey leapt up from his stool and darted to the door Ian entered through to lock it. Ian watched him retreat, eyes fixed on the glistening muscles of his back, mostly left exposed from the tank top.

“Shit… Thought I locked that fuckin hours ago,” Mickey breathed in concern.

“Well, good thing it wasn’t or I wouldn’t’ve been able to get in to give you your ‘lunch’ — if you can call it that at 9:15 at night.” Ian said this with as much levity as he could, trying to sway Mickey’s anxiety.

“You brought me somethin?” Mickey asked with surprise, wiping his face with a rag in his back pocket. The rag left a little smear of grease near his hairline and on his cheekbone, like highlighter but dirtier. Ian licked his lips and breathed deep through the somersault his core did.

“Yeah. I figured you’d work straight til it’s done and didn’t want you comin home starving and bitching,” Ian joked. Mickey smiled softly and wiped again at his forehead, leaving another swipe of grease on his skin. Ian stepped toward Mickey whose brows rose in question. Ian reached out and wiped at the grease with his thumb but the stuff barely budged. Mickey dodged out of Ian’s grasp and looked at him in bemusement.

“Tha fuck?” There was laughter in his tone though his face held its usual annoyance.

“You gave yourself a warrior’s mark,” Ian laughed. Mickey’s eyes rolled upwards as though to look for the mark but he quickly returned his gaze to Ian.

“And I fuckin earned it, too!” he snarked back. Ian chuckled and reached forward again, this time cupping the back of Mickey’s head, drawing him in. Mickey went easily as Ian lowered his mouth to Mickey’s, pressing his lips to his. They sank into each other and Ian couldn’t help smiling into the kiss. Mickey’s lips were salty and for once held no residual smoke or nicotine, evidence that it’d been hours since his last smoke break. But the salt of sweat was definitely there and the evidence of Mickey’s hard work sent Ian’s core into a fit. His hand trailed down to his partner’s hip and pulled him in, eliciting a slight gasp from Mickey, no doubt at the semi Ian was already packing.

“Damn, Gallagher. Grease and sweat get you off?” He didn’t even bother to answer, just drove back in for another searing kiss, swiping Mickey’s bottom lip with his tongue and humming appreciatively when Mickey’s mouth opened to receive him. He started to reach up to cup Ian’s jaw, but stopped short and pulled back, breaking the kiss. Ian’s brows furrowed, looking so much like a kid whose best birthday gift was suddenly snatched away right after unwrapping it.

“I’ve gotta work. An’ as much as you like it on _me,_ I can’t believe you’d like scrubbin yourself raw to get this shit off,” Mickey offered in explanation. Ian sighed, eyes fluttering closed in concentration. He wanted to just dive right back in, but knew that if Brad found out Mickey was fucking on the clock when he was already going to make time and a half Mickey’d get in a fuck-ton of trouble.

“A’right. Sandwich an a Coors in the paper bag on the counter for ya,” Ian murmured. Mickey stepped forward, grabbing at Ian’s wrist, eyes glowing imploringly. He didn’t even have to verbalize his ‘we good?’ “No, no, you’re right. I’ll let you work,” Ian reassured. Mickey’s eyes settled in relief. It wasn’t often Mickey turned Ian down, but Ian hated that it seemed to make Mickey afraid or something when he did — as though Ian’d be pissed at him for it. He leaned in for one last kiss and Mickey walked him out, locking the door behind him. And as Ian walked home, fidgeting with the grease round his wrist, he realized that Mickey definitely had a point about not liking the scrubbing raw process of dealing with grease.

Was that part of the appeal?

/////

The grease kink exploration continued a week later… Usually he didn’t get super greasy while working with new materials, so it was really only his work with repairs that got him dirty. Mickey parked the bike under the stairs in the backyard as usual — always prepared in case their POs came for surprise visits — and with three fingertips pushed the back door open, closing it with his foot to avoid greasing up the door. Ajax took a majority of the stuff off, but there was still enough residual grease that he wouldn’t put it past the stuff to seep into the knob and piss some Gallaghers off if it got slick.

Ian, apparently hearing the door open and close, bounded down the stairs and stopped short at Mickey’s appearance.

He was swiping at his forehead with his forearm, not trusting his tank top to not pass on more grease to his skin, and Ian’s eyes were glued to his bicep which was also covered in grease from when he’d swiped at a phantom itch earlier in the day.

“Hey,” Mickey blurted, interrupting Ian’s oggling. 

“Hey,” Ian replied breezily. Mickey smirked for the briefest of seconds before his tongue swiped along his bottom lip, moistening the flesh for his teeth to bite down. It was a gesture he did for so many things, and in almost any context it seemed to drive Ian crazy in the best way. Ian stepped into his personal space and made heated eye contact with the shorter man who released his bottom lip from between his teeth, confident smirk replacing the look.

There weren’t many things Ian Gallagher could do to shock him anymore. Yanking Mickey up by the backs of his thighs and giving him little option but to wrap his legs around his waist was certainly one of those things that _did._ He even let out a bit of a surprised gasp, damn him, as he was ripped up, his eyes bursted wide in his face and the smirk quickly faded into a look of _lust._

Mickey’s thighs tightened around Ian’s waist and he slid his grease-stained fingers over Ian’s shoulders, leaving a light trail from freckled collarbones up to alabaster neck, and into the longer strands of flaming hair at the crown of his head. Ian craned his neck forward to plant a hard kiss on Mickey’s lips which quickly turned devouring. Ian broke the kiss too quickly and turned to make their way up the stairs. Mickey couldn’t help the laugh that punched out as he was carried away, deciding then to make the endeavor as challenging as possible.

He attacked the patch of downy-soft skin roughly three inches from Ian’s jaw and ear, a spot that Mickey’d discovered as Ian’s favorite _years_ ago. The first time they reunited, Mickey had cautiously played with that spot, tonguing and nipping gently only to feel Ian’s response as much as he heard it, and discovered, to his relief, that this was still _Ian’s_ spot. Some things truly never changed.

Ian groaned as Mickey sank his teeth into the spot, just barely too gentle to say the attack was vicious. It was the perfect amount of pressure, the right mix of pain and intense pleasure. Ian gasped and subconsciously arched his neck to open himself to Mickey’s mouth. But Mickey’s onslaught was roughly interrupted by his back colliding with the bathroom door.

With some of Mickey’s weight now supported by something other than his hands, Ian trailed one hand from the back of Mickey’s thigh to the back of his head, his eyes meeting Mickey’s in question, _did I hit your head?_

Mickey reached back and slid his fingers through Ian’s as though saying _all good._ Craning his head forward once again to connect their lips, Mickey spitefully ran his greased fingertips against Ian’s cheek and gently licked into his partner’s eagerly awaiting mouth. Ian smiled so brightly he almost disconnected the kiss until Mickey bit especially roughly on his bottom lip, snapping the redhead’s attention back to their current task. The motion also sent Ian’s hips forward, eliciting simultaneous groans from them both.

Mickey slid his fingers from Ian’s grasp and reached behind him to open the bathroom door, inviting Ian to spill them in. Once they were inside, Ian released his hold of Mickey’s thighs, allowing the man just enough time to reach the floor before turning to shut the door. Mickey didn’t even give him the chance to turn back around, he shoved Ian against the door and kissed him hard.

“So… what is it about greasy hands that gets you off all the sudden, hm?” Mickey asked breathlessly, cupping Ian’s neck and shoulder with purpose. Ian laughed under his breath and groaned as Mickey’s tattooed fingers darted down to the front of his jeans.

“ _Gah…_ I… I dunno. There’s just… somethin about you covered in sweat an’ oil and whatever that I…. like,” he flexed his hips forward in Mickey’s hand for emphasis. Mickey grinned his conspiratorial smirk and squeezed his fingers and palm to find the outline of Ian’s shaft.

“Well, it’s uncomfortable as fuck havin it on me, so… guess you’ll have to say goodbye for now.” Mickey backed away and just as he turned on the hot water for the shower, he got whirled around with a tug of Ian’s large hand. Ian caught Mickey’s body with the other hand, cradling his waist gently, a stark contrast with the fiery passion alight in Ian’s green eyes.

“Mind if I join you?”

He knew he wasn’t _really_ asking, but fuck if Ian attempting to sound like a gentleman didn’t amuse the fuck out of him. He examined Ian’s eyes, trying to gather what filthy thoughts must be in the redhead’s brain to have him so clingy. Mickey’s own body responded in kind to the absolute primal look in his partner’s gaze. He looked like he wanted to devour him in the absolute best way… And goddamn him, he wanted to be.

It was still an adjustment having Ian back, and having him as _his_ Ian… The Ian who looked at him like the world began and ended with him, who acted like the day was incomplete without ensuring Mickey knew he was loved and wanted and deserving. Mickey did his best to return these acts and feelings, and from Ian’s soft looks and warm smiles, Mickey supposed he succeeded.

They were good. Better than good. Take every _good_ moment from their relationship before Mickey’s first stint in prison and erase any and all bittersweet thoughts associated with those moments… They were fucking damn near _perfect._ And Mickey was so happy most days it fucking scared him. Like now. His entire body was thrumming with ecstasy and it wasn’t even about the sexual tension charging the space between them right now. They were just… _finally_ working out the way Mickey had never even dared to dream.

Finally, to answer Ian’s question, Mickey shrugged off his Born Free Cycles uniform shirt and tossed it to the sink. Ian grinned victoriously and tore at his own shirt before turning on the water for Mickey.

In a flash, both men were bare, wet, and embracing each other under the warm spray of water cascading over them. Ian’s back was pressed against the tile wall, his hands cupping Mickey’s ass, drawing him closer. Mickey hissed at the sensation of their cocks meeting with a slight friction as Ian teased him with slight thrusts of his hips. Mickey bit his lip to contain his mewls and stretched up to lock lips with Ian once again, kissing him messily under the spray of water. Ian’s hands squeezed Mickey’s ass and pulled him up once again, toying with him by also pulling his cheeks apart.

Mickey’s hands trailed down to Ian’s chest and broke the kiss to examine his greased fingers against Ian’s white chest. Ian decided not to wax his chest after living so long with his chest hair in prison, and so he once again had a dusting of bright red curls across his chest which added more dimension to the look.

Truly, together they were art.

Ian looked down at his chest and seemed equally transfixed by the image before him. Mickey slowly sank to his knees, his fingers trailing down Ian’s torso as he lowered himself. Ian watched the whole way, a sensual blush rising to his cheeks at the little show Mickey was providing.

Mickey had done everything he could to avoid sucking cock before coming out. He was fucking _terrified_ of coming face-to-face (so to speak) with another man’s dick because there was no way of denying what he was doing. Sucking dick was just a whole new level of intimacy and pleasing a man for _his pleasure_ rather than for some sort of mutual getting-off session was just a step that he never expected to take—that he never expected to _want_ to take. But here he was, damn near ten years later and diving face first into Ian Gallagher’s crotch, swallowing his semi-hard dick down in one enthusiastic move. Above him, Ian sighed, urging Mickey on. After several passes over his shaft, he caressed the underside with his tongue before replacing his mouth with his hand, running gentle fingers over the warm, soft skin. He looked up to find Ian watching Mickey’s fist with great interest. One brow arched as he realized it was the stark contrast between the slightly flushed white skin of his cock and the dark grey, near black stain of the oil on his fingers that had Ian so transfixed. He chuckled under his breath again and ran his fingers back up the shaft, scratching lightly through his pubic hair, and trailing up to his abdomen as he leaned in to once again envelop the member with his mouth. Ian’s eyes had followed Mickey’s hands the whole time and now thread his fingers through Mickey’s. Mickey closed his eyes and focused on his task, tightening and relaxing his lips as he moved and taking breaks intermittently to kiss and mouth around the skin, to tease him. Ian’s head was thrown back, jaw dropped as he simply absorbed all of the sensations Mickey’s skilled mouth and fingers brought about. Whenever Ian would open his eyes, Mickey would be sure to make a show of running his fingers along him to keep to the newest kink they’d discovered about him.

Finally, Ian growled and took both of Mickey’s hands in his and pulled him up, kissing him fiercely. Mickey couldn’t help but chuckle at the ferocity and sank his fingers into Ian’s hair, right where he liked them.

“Alright, Mick… I’ve gotta fuck you,” Ian murmured from deep in his chest. Mickey groaned, a rush of blood warming him even under the hot water’s spray.

“Don’t got the stuff in here,” Mickey taunted.

“We don’t?” Ian lazily pressed their hips together for some slight, teasing pressure. Mickey hummed at the friction and pressed his lips together, biting them and allowing his head to sink as he absorbed the feeling. 

“We _do?_ ” Mickey shot back, hand cupping the back of Ian’s neck to squeeze as Ian once again leisurely thrust his hips into Mickey’s. Ian released a sound Mickey couldn’t identify as anything other than ‘smug.’

The ginger leaned to his left, reaching beyond the shower curtain and trailed a brief trail of kisses across Mickey’s hipbone before standing back up and presenting a brand new bottle of lube. Mickey arched a brow and smirked. Ian just lowered another passionate kiss on him, quickly slipping his tongue into the other man’s eager mouth. They played with each other like that, Mickey taking notice of the water sliding down his cheek and racing to his lips where Ian’s tongue met the beads of water. Their mouths slipped and glided over each others’ and as the passion heightened between them, hands started gripping and pressing and hips grinded forward and chests met as Mickey even pressed up on the balls of his feet for a deeper connection with his partner. Ian’s fingers gripped against the plump cheeks of Mickey’s ass, the bottle of lube pressing into his skin as well. Ian’s fingers wandered and worked to smoothly pop open the bottle’s top and start prepping his eager bottom.

“Eager” truly is the perfect word for Mickey. As soon as Ian pulled at Mickey’s skin to give his lubricated fingers space to start their work, Mickey started tilting and readjusting his hips to help Ian along. The redhead chuckled lightly under his breath and pressed a heated kiss against Mickey’s neck, right along the major muscle there that was extra sensitive to Mickey. Mickey’s breath released in a deep sigh as Ian’s middle finger pushed inside and Ian captured Mickey's mouth in an open kiss, brushing his tongue lazily against Mickey's. Ian readjusted for easier access and, leaning Mickey against the wall of the shower, re-entered him with a slow, purposeful stroke of his middle finger. Impatient as ever, Ian quickly found Mickey's prostate and rhythmically pressed against the bundle of nerves.

"Fuck..." Mickey hissed in a deep breath, head tilting against the shower wall, allowing his hold on Ian's shoulder and Ian's grip on his waist to hold him up as he relaxed around Ian's generous finger.... Make that fingers.

Blood rushed through his whole body and pure desire, hot and thick, tightened in his chest, forcing another deep groan out in a burst of breath. He couldn't see Ian's rapturous smile as he got off to the pleasure he was giving his partner with just two fingers.

Impatient as ever, _Mickey_ removed his hand from around Ian's shoulder and dropped it to Ian's fully erect dick, gingerly wrapping his fingers around the shaft. Ian's attention switched to the shift and was instantly transfixed by the image... darkened fingers sensually stroking him, teasing the head with a calloused thumb... That stark contrast between the grease and his flesh once again appealing to him. Ian groaned now and gently scissored his fingers open, stretching Mickey one final time before slowly retreating. Mickey huffed out a mournful sigh and reached for the lube still in Ian's left hand, yanking it right out of his grasp. Ian laughed until Mickey dribbled a solid line of cool lubricant up his shaft, sending a trembling shiver down Ian's spine. He instinctively reached down and spread the lube as Mickey added another healthy amount to his entrance. 

As Mickey finished prepping himself, Ian leaned in to kiss him deeply, reaching up with the lube-free hand to cup his neck and draw him in closer. Mickey went easily and returned the kiss until he once again grew impatient and lifted one leg to open himself to Ian who in a matter of seconds buried himself in his partner. Mickey's sharp exhale trailed across Ian's ear and the redhead tucked his face into Mickey's shoulder as he allowed his partner to adjust. Mickey's head gently tapped against the shower wall as he tipped his head back. Ian gently kissed Mickey's neck, withdrawing his hips by only a couple of inches before sinking back in. The process was smooth with no resistance from Mickey's body, so each thrust became harder and quicker than the last. Mickey, rarely the submissive type, was leaning back and taking it all with breathy moans at every glide of Ian's body against his. This submissive stuff.... It wasn't what Ian had exactly expected from him considering the fervor he'd come at him with before. He retreated until just the head was sitting at Mickey's entrance, and as slowly as he could stand it, inched back in. Mickey's brows furrowed in frustration.

"The fuck, Gallagher?"

"The fuck's with you, Mick? Since when do you just lay back and take it like a fuckin pillow princess?"

Mickey smirked at the faux insult.

"Just wanted to see what these..." he rest his grease-stained fingers against Ian's chest, "do for you." 

Leave it to Mickey to redirect a challenge to still come out on top. 

Ian accepted the challenge, scooping Mickey up by the backs of his thighs and drilling back inside his lover to press him hard against the wall. The water beat against Ian's lower back, keeping Mickey completely dry in his position poised against the wall, a triumphant smirk on the older man's face.

Mickey tightened his thighs around Ian's waist, allowing the redhead to prop his arms against the tiled wall, keeping their weight supported so they wouldn't have to worry about a spill -- not that a fall in the shower was likely to stop them.

Ian set a punishing pace, pushing a deep groan from Mickey's chest, a broad and victorious grin spreading as Ian angled his partner's hips _just so_ to hit his prostate.

"Fuckkkk, Gallagher," Mickey breathed sharply. His fingers clenched against Ian's chest and the slightest smudge of grease rubbed off onto his skin, which for some inexplicable reason made Ian groan. He trailed a freckled hand against the thicker stripe of the stuff on Mickey's bicep and watched in fascination as he slightly distorted the line -- another piece of proof that he was here, almost another way of leaving a visible mark. When Ian returned his attention to Mickey's face, their eyes met and Mickey grinned, clearly getting off on how much Ian got off to this newly discovered kink. Ian didn't know what the fuck was going on, but seeing Mickey enjoy it just as much as he did at least kept him from feeling an ounce of shame over it.

Ian traced the line of Mickey's cheekbone with his slightly dirtied fingertips, leaving a slight trace of gray on the older man's skin. Ian bit his lip and sank his fingers into Mickey's hair, fisting the strands just slightly tighter than a grasp in victory as a sucker-punch of a groan burst from Mickey's chest. In response, Mickey thrust his fingers into Ian's hair and used his thighs to drag him closer. To keep the depth and force of his thrusts where his greedy bottom needed them, Ian released his hold of Mickey's hair and wrapped his hands once again under Mickey's thighs, spreading his legs back out and leaning them even more solidly against the wall. The slight change in angle made a significant change to Mickey's moans, sending them at least one whole octave higher. Ian looked down to watch as he drilled into Mickey, taking an intense thrill in the fact that Mickey was still hard and noticing for the first time how much of Mickey's work had rubbed off on Ian's abdomen. 

Ian and Mickey had always been down for marking -- hickeys, scratches, bites, hell even a nice red ass here and there... But this kind of marking was different somehow. It was even more temporary, but it was also a lot harder to inflict, showing how much effort they had to put into their grasping and holding of each other, but also long lasting since the stuff wasn't water soluble and so... set on their skin, showing everywhere they'd been in this latest session. Ian hesitated in calling it a love-making session, though with the depth of the connection they shared, how absolutely _sensual_ Mickey looked, and the intense passion between them it almost felt like one... Though an intense one from the heat of the newly discovered kink.

Mickey's eyes screwed shut as a particularly loud moan erupted from him and Ian knew he was close.

"Mick...?" Mickey opened his eyes to acknowledge his boyfriend, brow arched to demand what the fuck he was getting at, interrupting his focus. Ian tilted his face back down to where they were connected, hoping to also bring Mickey's attention to the fact that he couldn't be the one to bring Mickey to his climax this time. Mickey, always on the same wavelength as Ian, got the message and released his right hand from Ian's hair, his left still clenched over Ian's shoulder, and slowly, sensually wrapped his fingers around his erection. Ian grunted a low and short groan at the image and rested the crown of his head against Mickey's shoulder where he could get off on the images currently setting his core on fire -- Mickey's stained fingers stroking his thickness and Ian entering his lover's body over and over again. 

Ian gasped as Mickey's hole tightened and caressed him as he loved him. Ian cursed under his breath, eyes finally screwing shut as he let himself get lost in sensation alone. He felt every scorching mark from where they had touched, the skin vibrating especially where Mickey's fingers had left their mark on his abdomen, chest, and shoulders. Mickey's legs tightened around his waist once again and Ian's hands shifted from Mickey's thighs to his ass, hoisting him up as Mickey's hips shifted down to minimize their time apart. Ian pressed closer, tightening his thrusts to quick, powerful bursts that had Mickey tightening even more around him, like a fuckin vine.

Unexpectedly, Mickey cried out, his fist stalling on his dick, wrapping tighter at the base as though trying to stave off his climax... which didn't work if the amount of come against his abdomen was anything to judge by. Ian was quick to follow, the rhythmic clenching of Mickey's body making it impossible to delay his climax any farther. Ian buried himself in to the hilt and pressed his body completely against his lover's. The water beat against Ian's calves, both of them pressed so far to the back of the shower that the water's spray couldn't even completely reach them. They breathed deeply, harshly against each other, Mickey's face pressed against the side of Ian's head, the redhead's face burrowed against Mickey's neck and shoulder. Their chests expanded together as they caught their breath, both wearing the most ridiculously broad smiles.

Mickey ran his fingers through Ian's hair and kissed the side of his face gingerly.

"So... grease, huh? That's all I gotta do now?" Ian grunted a laugh and smacked Mickey's ass affectionately.

"Shut the fuck up. Like I don't fuck you any fucking time you want it anyway."

"Yeah, any time _I_ want it!" Mickey shot back. Ah.... His man wanted him to jump on _him_ every now and then? Well... Then yeah, this was a damn sure-fire way to make that happen, then... As they both fully declared a fact when Ian attacked him again in their bed when he noticed they'd missed a spot in their shower... 

That damn grease was a _great_ marker.


End file.
